


Sleeping Beauty

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: 616 Marvel, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: (Mutual) Pining, M/M, forehead kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 00:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: There’s no mistaking the fact that it’s Steve lying on the shaded stone bench. But is he lying out here? And his uniform to boot? A pair of Monarch butterflies are flitting around Steve in a manner that reminds Tony of Disney’s animated animal sidekicks and he tries not to laugh aloud because that would make Steve sleeping beauty.





	Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> nspired by this gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous fanart by @negativesd09 ([on tunglr](https://ironswordandstarshield.tumblr.com/post/186565763265/sleeping-beauty) & [on twittah.](https://twitter.com/Sadaharu_bl/status/1154780415946682369))

Tony lands in the mansion gardens and inhales deeply. A multitude of floral scents mix into a delightfully sweet smell that is indicative of spring. The garden is a riot of colors - red roses, pink sweet peas, purple forget-me-nots, yellow sunflowers; it’s a nature lovers paradise. Smiling, he walks deeper into the garden, following the sound of running water, wondering when had the gardener finished installing the fountain. Wasn’t that supposed to be finished next week or something?

Two things come into his sight at the same time, the newly installed fountain, and the blond figure lying on a stone bench nearby.

There’s no mistaking the fact that it’s Steve lying on the shaded stone bench. But is he lying out here? And his uniform to boot? A pair of Monarch butterflies are flitting around Steve in a manner that reminds Tony of Disney’s animated animal sidekicks and he tries not to laugh aloud because that would make Steve sleeping beauty. Several different bird calls merge into a soft melody that hides the sound of Tony’s shoes clicking against the stone path.

The idea takes root in his mind. Tony wonders if this is what Prince Phillip felt was anything like what’s feeling right now as he observes Steve nap. There’s something magical about the way the sunlight deepens the blond of Steve’s hair; sunshine gold. Steve’s lips are parted ever so slightly as he breathes. His hands lie low on his torso, one on top of the other on top of his stomach.

It’s not the first time Tony wishes he was an artist because he wants to capture Steve’s likeness in a painting. Sure he could use his camera phone but it wouldn’t be the same. It somehow won't do Steve's beauty justice. This image (A Hero Rests, Tony titles it) deserves to be memorialized and hung up in a museum. Tony stares at the dappled armor, watching Steve’s stomach rise and fall in deep breaths. He’s honestly fast asleep out here. He's a notoriously light sleep, with the slightest noise jerking him awake. But out here, in the middle of nature's symphony, Steve sleeps like a babe.

Tony drops to his knees next to the bench, syncing his breathing with Steve’s - in and out, in and out. A cool breeze sweeps over them both, slipping its fingers under Tony’s jacket and through Steve’s golden locks. Tony’s jealous of the wind for a moment because _he _can’t do that (and he would very much like it). Perhaps this is what Lancelot must have felt like when he’d realized he couldn’t ever have Guinevere; she was never his and never would be. His lot in life was to love her from a distance and know that they could never be together.

Steve’s quiet exhale pulls Tony out of his morose musings. Tony lets out a sigh of his own, fingers twitching against his thighs as he wonders if he could… would it be safe… should he take the risk?

Holding his breath, Tony reaches out to touch Steve’s hair. Ginger fingers sweep through the long blond strands, A shiver runs down Tony’s spine because oh. It’s softer than he’d imagined. Emboldened, Tony continues his petting of Steve’s hair, relaxing when he sees the beginnings of a small smile pulling up the corners of Steve’s lips. Steve needs a haircut. He’s been complaining endlessly about how the long hair keeps falling into his eyes. It feels like a magical moment. Something almost out of Tony’s dreams. _Almost_ because in his dreams Tony wouldn’t be kneeling on hard stone and showing his love in secret. Tony would be seated on the bench with Steve’s head in his lap, smiling back down at Steve and telling him how much he loved the man. 

_It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair_, a childish voice howls somewhere inside of Tony. But he’s used to ignoring that particular cry. Of course life isn’t fair. Of course someone like Steve wouldn’t look at someone like Tony anymore than just a kind benefactor and friend. Tony’s sins outweigh every good deed he could ever accomplish in the rest of his life; he doesn’t deserve Steve.

But that doesn’t mean that Tony doesn’t hope sometimes. That he doesn’t hesitate when he stands up, knees aching and suit rumpled. Tony’s weak, so very weak. He’s never been good at avoiding temptation so he leans into Steve, thinking of gravity and planetary bodies and how he’ll never stop revolving around Steve, and brushes a dry but tender kiss on Steve’s smooth brow.

It’s that same foolish hope that compels Tony to confess to the sleeping beauty, “Maybe one day I’ll find enough courage to tell you how I feel.” 

As soon as the confession slips out of him, Tony turns on his heels and walks away, feeling so utterly, _utterly _foolish because there’s no way. _No way_ he’ll _ever _admit his true feelings to Steve. Never, ever, ever. Hell was going to freeze first.

(And little did he know, that he’d been mistaken the whole time and that Steve had been awake during the quiet moment. That Steve’s heart had raced underneath his armor when Tony had stroked his hair. That his breathing had stuttered badly at Tony’s confession. And his eyes had flown open to watch Tony’s back walk away from him, mouth forming a silent, “What?” that Tony never heard.)


End file.
